


Hate From A Distance

by orphan_account



Category: Olympics RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: Angst, Bed hopping, Closeted Character, Drabble, Infidelity, M/M, Revenge Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1946745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan takes his sister's advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate From A Distance

* * *

Ryan is sitting on his couch in Gainesville watching Michael parade his latest conquest down the red carpet of the ESPY’S in Los Angeles.

“Probably think that’s real fuckin’ funny, huh, Bitch?” Ryan curses at the blonde on Michael’s arm, as if the woman could actually hear him. Ryan doesn’t know her name or what she does. All he knows is that she’s the one Michael’s taking home at the end of the night instead of him. “Have fun suckin’ his cock you goddamn whore,” he curses at the t.v. again.

He’s so mad he wants to spit at the screen but then he remembers that if he does that then he’ll be the idiot who has to wipe his own loogie off his brand new seventy-two inch television. He wants to do something destructive. He wants to punch something.... Michael’s smug face especially. It wasn’t like they were ever official, they never came out or anything, but Ryan assumed that Michael would take it to the next level once he realized that Ryan had stopped fucking anyone but him.

Whoever said Michael was the smart one was obviously off their fucking meds.

Ryan could’ve waved a huge sign in front of the other swimmer’s face that said **“YOU & ME, ME & YOU, BOTH OF US & NOBODY ELSE”** and Michael still wouldn’t have got it. There’s nothing he can do about it now. Ryan just sits there seething to himself. It’s been a good twenty minutes of mumbled curses and random bouts of griping when his iPhone buzzes to life on the seat cushion next to him. It’s a text from Conor and it’s only three words: _come get some_.

“Damn right I will,” Ryan thinks out loud as he texts back: _get naked b there in 10_.

Ryan recalls something his sister Megan once told him as he gets up from the couch.

The best way to get over someone is to get under somebody else.

 


End file.
